Rise
by djEskimo
Summary: Happiness Trilogy 3/3. Post Aliyah: Ziva and team return to normal - whatever that is. TIVA - NCIS Family
1. 1: Rise

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS**

**a/n: This is the final installment of my Happiness series. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed it so far. If you haven't read either Happiness or Breathing, you should probably go do that. Find them on my profile page.  
**

**I think it's fair to say that each story has had an underlying theme (Happiness was returning, Breathing was recovering), and this one is no different. You should be able to figure it out in this chapter.**

**But I am writing too much, and you probably would like to read the story, so here it is:**

**Enjoy:**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Pump left arm.

Pump right arm.

Move left leg.

Move right leg.

Clockwork.

I smile to myself and slow down my pace as I reach my building.

I missed running.

I do not know why I had not been allowed to train for six weeks. I can understand not going out in the field; if I had gotten into a fight with a suspect, the scar on my back might have reopened, and that would not have been good.

But not allowing me to run…

Overkill.

I hit the call button for the elevator as I wipe the sweat off my brow.

I am very out of shape.

While I have not mapped out an eight-mile loop in this neighborhood yet, I think I only did half of my usual distance. At a very slow pace.

I would be more upset, but it is to be expected: six weeks without training does that to a person.

I step in the lift and press the button for the third floor.

It has been tough adjusting to that, as Abby's, Tony's, and my previous apartment all were - or are - on the second.

Other than that, my new apartment is perfect.

Tony, Jimmy, and McGee all helped me move in yesterday. Abby provided us with entertainment and food as we hauled various items throughout the spacious apartment. The companies I had bought the furniture from were kind enough to bring it up to my room. After that, it was on us to put it in the correct spot.

Tony had complained incessantly about the piano he had to move from one room to another, though his complaints stopped as soon as the widescreen TV was delivered.

My father might not be good for much, but he did supply my financial requirements in this instance. I did not feel the need to be frugal.

It really is the least he could do, as it was one of his officers who blew up my previous place.

I step out of the elevator into the now familiar hallway.

I have only had one day in the building, but I still know everything about it. My observational skills seem to be back in full force.

I moved in yesterday morning, a Friday. Gibbs gave all of us the day off to help me out. This time I welcome the aid, as it would have been foolish to try to move the furniture by myself.

I unlock the door and step inside to my already de-cluttered home.

Most people have boxes of random things months after they move in. I did not have too many things to move.

Everything in my house is brand new aside from the clothes, though I had only gotten them weeks ago.

Tony has been calling me "new Ziva" and I have been calling him annoying. It is like it was before I went back to Israel.

I love that.

I mean, for the moment.

I know he was hurt when I rejected him a week ago, but he showed no sign of it.

Part of me wishes I did not have to pull away from his kiss. Okay, not just part of me. Every thing but the reasonable part wanted to kiss him back.

But it was the right call.

I sigh as I check the clock.

Just past noon. Abby should be over soon. She wants to help me get ready for the "housewarming" party.

I thought I had one last night, when I bought four large pizzas for the group after we had finished moving. Abby informed me that I was incorrect in my assumption.

Of course I will do anything to humor Abby right now. She let me spend six weeks in her living room.

I had offered to pay rent, and she refused. I had offered to pay for gas money, and she refused. I had offered to buy her groceries, and she refused.

Finally we settled that I would take her out to dinner every Wednesday. Obviously this does not even come close to her generosity, but it was all she would accept.

I do not actually know why Abby wanted to come over at 12:30 for a party that wouldn't start till 5:30.

She said something about making her world famous gumbo, though I have no idea what that is.

I should probably take a shower before she arrives. I suppose I do not have to clean anything up, as everything is brand new.

How odd.

-=-

Abby arrived exactly on time and immediately began decorating. I do not know why "streamers" as I believe they are called were necessary, but she felt they were crucial to the general ambience.

I helped her with start the gumbo and she helped me prep the shakshuka dish I wanted to make.

The food finished just as the first guests arrived. Abby has sort of taken charge after that, breaking out wine and champagne, before ushering everyone into the dining room.

"Well, I think a toast is in order," Ducky says, tapping a spoon against his glass.

Tony catches my attention across the table and he rolls his eyes ironically at me.

"Just for you, Anthony, I'll make it extra long."

I snort and McGee chuckles next to me.

"Obviously, Ziva, you have been back in the US for nearly two months now, but I believe we all cannot help but cherish every moment spent with you. The unfortunate events of the past months have brought me to the old Scottish Proverb: 'Fools look to tomorrow. Wise men use tonight' as I believe it holds particular bearing for our situation. We all work a dangerous job, and I believe all of us have at one point, been exposed to this fact."

Palmer awkwardly pulls on his collar and Abby elbows him.

"You were shot at!"

"Yeah, but I wasn't injured." He responds in a loud whisper.

"But Mr. Palmer, you still faced a peril most people do not. And that being said, we must enjoy the company we have tonight, for as morose as this sounds, we don't know if we can have the same tomorrow."

"Well said, Ducky," Tony says quickly, reaching for his fork.

"Thank you, but I am not finished."

Tony's distressed look is enough to make even Gibbs laugh.

"So this is not much of a toast anymore, but I will turn it into one: To Ziva, for coming back, and allowing us to enjoy your company at least once more."

A chorus of "To Ziva"s fill the room followed by several clinks of glasses.

I give Ducky an appreciative nod, before motioning to the group.

"Dig on."

I expect Tony to immediately ravish the food on his plate, but he gives me a quirky smile.

"Dig _in_, Ziva."

"Either way."

I know that in order to fully become self-dependent, I have to stop constantly having these group meals.

But right now, I do not care, because I am surrounded by the people I love.

McGee, the nerdy younger brother who always has the best intentions. Abby, the sister who has seamlessly transformed into my best friend. Palmer, the awkward cousin who I do not see much, but care for a surprising amount. Ducky, the verbose grandfather who is never short in wise words of advice. Gibbs, the father that I have always wanted. And of course Tony, the distant cousin who I should not have romantic feelings for, but do anyway.

Ducky is right. I should live for the night. I should enjoy this party and the people at it.

While I do agree with Ducky's words, it is hard not to look to tomorrow.

The future is something that I cannot predict, but as of now, it is looking a whole lot brighter.

-=-

**--==--**

**The beginning of the end, my friends.**

**Once again, this chapter pretty much just set the scene for the story; we'll get more action next chapter.**

**I'd love to know what you think so far =]**


	2. 2: Look After You

**a/n: Thanks for all the reviews. Glad you're liking it so far.**

**We get some Tiva in this chapter, and also a bit of a subplot I haven't touched on that I feel I need to.**

**Enjoy:**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

DiNozzos are known for their amazing willpower.

That doesn't make this any easier.

Ziva sits five feet away from me every day. Five feet. I can smell her shampoo from here.

And, for the record, it's a perfect combination of peaches and passion fruit. And recently she's been using this intoxicating vanilla body wash…

I know I sound stalker-esk, but in fairness, I'm a trained investigator, so it's not that creepy that I know what toiletries she uses.

Right?

Okay, it's a little creepy, but it's Ziva. I mean.

Ziva.

God, she's pretty.

It's like, every time I look up from my desk I just see her. Sitting there. Mocking me.

Her lips look so soft, and there is nothing I wouldn't give to just lean over her desk and kiss them.

Oh wait. They're moving.

"You are staring."

"You have something on your face." Two gorgeous, unbelievably kissable lips.

"What?"

"I'm going to guess lunch."

She gives me a glare before subtly wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"All gone?"

"All gone."

God I want her.

"Movie at my place tonight?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Do I get to pick the film?"

"Ziva, it's Monday. Mondays and Wednesdays are your choice, Fridays are mine."

"Speaking of that… I do not think I will be able to do Wednesday sessions anymore. I am taking Abby out to dinner every Wednesday for the rest of my life."

I'm surprisingly saddened by this.

"Sounds fun. But back to the original question, are you coming tonight?"

"Of course."

I send her a large smile before returning my attention to my computer.

Okay, I look like I'm returning my attention to the computer. I'm still thinking about Ziva.

I can't stop. Ever since that kiss… There quite literally has been nothing else on my mind.

"Gear up."

I pull out my sig and badge before following Gibbs to the elevator.

"What do we have, boss?" McGee asks as he slides in past the closing doors.

"Break in."

"You serious? They're sending out a full team of investigators for a break in?" I ask, looking to Ziva and McProbulous for support. "Overdoing it much?"

"Not when it's SecNav's house."

Ziva sticks out her tongue and I send her a look.

"Coulda said that earlier…" I mutter as we step out of the elevator.

Gibbs turns around to glare at me. "McGee, take DiNozzo, I'll take Ziva."

"Great, I'm stuck with McGoo driving?"

"What's so bad about my driving?"

"I'm just better."

"Scratch that." Gibbs starts. "McGee, take Ziva. I'll take DiNozzo."

"I'm honored."

I might just die today.

-=-

"I guess this is better than Ziva's driving," I mumble as Gibbs takes a seemingly psychically impossible turn onto the street.

"What is with you two?"

"What, you mean her driving? Cause, boss, that's always sucked."

"Not her driving, DiNozzo. The two of you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about."

"What, you mean our movie nights? We have dinner a couple times a week. Platonically."

His attention shifts from the road to me.

"I'm serious." I say, "Is it so wrong to want to be friends with my partner again?"

"That's not all you want."

"But it's all we are. Don't give me your rule twelve stuff right now."

"My rules are there for a reason."

"Boss, if I want to date Ziva, I'm going to. I mean, assuming that's what she wants."

That probably was the wrong thing to say. I do like my job…

"Just, wait, DiNozzo." He says softly. "Wait till she's ready."

"Yeah, trust me, I know." Gibbs scowls at me, and I wait for the headslap.

"You two better keep this out of the office."

Wait, is he actually condoning this?

"We will. I mean, assuming it happens."

"Don't waste this chance. You damn sure won't get another."

I'd care more about Gibbs being okay with the idea of a relationship if Ziva was okay with the idea of a relationship too.

-=-

I'm not sure how this qualifies as a break in.

A rock had been thrown through his window. No other damage. Nothing stolen.

"Do you have any enemies?" I ask, boredom evident in my tone.

"I'm the secretary of the United States Navy. What do you think?"

"Just doing my job, sir."

"Where are your other agents?"

"Outside doing forensics. Have you received any death threats?"

"No. Is Ms. David with you?"

"Yes. Did she send you a death threat?"

He ignores my remark. "How is she doing?"

"Fine."

"So she's capable of performing her duties?"

"More than capable." Why does he care so much? "She has been back for nearly two months now."

"Two months is a very short amount of time to recovery from what she went through."

"And how much do you know about what she went through?"

"More than you do agent DiNozzo."

Oh. It's on.

"With all due respect, Mr. Secretary, I think I know a fair amount more than you."

"I've gotten seven different reports on the incident, agent DiNozzo. Three of which from the terrorists themselves."

"You got them to write a report? I'm sure they were perfectly candid."

"People tend to open up when they've got a gun against their head."

"Figuratively?"

"My SEALs don't do figuratively."

"Yeah, well I've got Ziva's description of the _incident_, and I think hers is probably the most reliable."

"I've got Ziva's too. Three pages of it."

I don't think I'm going to win this one.

"She's healing fine."

He gives me a cocky smile and I want to punch him upside the face.

"Do you think I could have a word with her?"

I'm tempted to say no, though I don't know why.

"Yeah, I think we're done here. I'll go get her."

"Fantastic."

I'm a little sick with myself to be honest. I don't like hearing that other people know about Ziva's experience more than I do. As if it somehow cheapens what she told me.

"Secretary wants to talk to you." I say, walking outside to see the Ziva and McGee collecting evidence.

"Who?"

"Ms. David." She looks momentarily put off but puts the bag down and takes off her gloves.

"Good luck," I mutter quietly as she walks past me.

She sends me a nervous glance before continuing inside the house.

"What's that about?" McGee asks, as I look around the "crime" scene.

"Good question."

Ziva definitely did not tell me three pages worth of information on her capture, though I seriously have trouble believing she was holding something back from me.

I mean, she had a nightmare, voluntarily told me about it, and then let me hold her as we slept.

Doesn't sound very secretive.

But what the hell had she told the secretary?

"Are we done here?" Gibbs asks, as he comes back from "surveying the area" as he called it.

"I think so. Just have to wait for Ziva." McGee responds for me.

"Where is she?"

"With the secretary." I say this time, not hiding the cold overtone.

"Any particular reason why?"

"None that we know."

Gibbs scowls. "Let's load up the cars. I'll wait here."

I'd rather be the one waiting for Ziva, but I do as I'm told and follow the probie out to the cars.

"I'm starting to think this 'break-in' might have been a pretense in getting Ziva to come." I say.

McGee glances over at me. "Seems unnecessary."

"Yeah. It does."

-=-

**--==--**

**Mystery and intrigue… More from the SecNav next chapter.**

**I'll be gone this entire week, not sure if I'll have internet access. If I do, I'll post. If I don't… I'll see you next week.**

**Click this button \/ then type something.**


	3. 3: Waiting

**a/n: Sorry for the long wait. I had limited internet access for a week, so I decided to use the small amount of time I had checking my e-mail. How irresponsible of me.**

**Just a quick note: don't get confused by some misused idioms here. Since this story is set in the character's minds, I feel it's only right for Ziva to mess some things up in her head.**

**In other news, here's a chapter:**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

"Officer David, it's good to see you."

I do not like him.

Instead of responding, I give him a curt nod, and he motions for me to take a seat. I do so.

"How are you feeling?"

Since when is everyone a counselor?

"I am fine."

"Agent DiNozzo was very firm in his belief that you were." I smile. "But I did not call you in here to talk on your health." He says, taking a seat on the plush living chair across from me.

"What did you call me in here for?"

"Let's just skip the foreplay then."

I hate that expression.

"Has your father contacted you at all?"

"I talked to him in MTAC when I arrived."

"And after?"

"We have spoken over the phone a few times. He has called to check up on my recovery."

"And just your recovery?"

I really do not like him.

"And just my recovery."

He gives me a long, inquisitive look before continuing.

"Has he mentioned the terrorist camp?"

"Not to me." I say brusquely.

"I'm sure you can understand my interest on the matter. After all, it was my men who ended the cell."

"And I am sure he wonders why that is, but he has not mentioned it to me."

"And you wonder why that is as well?"

I take a moment to formulate a response.

"Yes, but I know that you have your reasons for secrecy, sir." It is hard to add condescension to the word "sir" but I think I did a pretty good job.

"If he contacts you again, and not just about your health, I'd like for you to tell me."

"And if I feel it is prudent, I will do so."

His face remains impassive though I can tell he is getting frustrated.

"Will you?"

"Yes."

I do not know if I am lying. I will certainly tell Gibbs, but I am not feeling particularly inclined to assist this man.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. You better take that evidence back to the lab and figure out who threw that rock, yes?"

"I am sure it will not take too long."

He winks at me and I give a fake smile back.

The bastard called us over here just so he could have a conversation with me about nothing. Was he expecting me to divulge all of Mossad's secrets? I mean, clearly he knows nothing of how my father and I communicate, or he would have realized how fruitless it would be to try and find out if we had been talking.

"Have a good day, Officer David. I am sure I will hear from you soon." I nod, and smile before making my way outside.

Hopefully not too soon.

-=-

Gibbs had not asked me about my visit with the secretary. Just nodded at me as we made our way to the cars.

Tony and McGee had been a different story. Well, certainly Tony.

I had managed to avoid answering them at work, though I realized that all jets would be off once I arrived at Tony's for a movie.

"Seriously, Ziva, what did he say?" I hear as soon as I let myself into his apartment.

He greets me with a plate of pizza and a glass of wine, handing them to me as we walk towards the living room.

"It is nothing interesting, Tony. Did you not get pepperoni tonight?"

"I wanted to go kosher. Back on topic though, is it something bad? You didn't look happy when you came back from his house. Does he not want you working with NCIS or something?"

I give an exasperated sigh as I take my seat, placing the food on the coffee table in front of me.

"It is nothing bad. He just wanted intel that I did not have."

"Intel? What kind of intel?"

"You are incessant with this. He wanted to know if my father had been talking with me."

"Has he?"

"Hardly. And only to make sure I am healing alright."

"And what was the intel SecNav was interested in?"

"What my father thinks."

Tony smiles. "That's hard intel to give."

"Trust me, I have known him my whole life and I can hardly decipher a simple greeting from him."

Tony gives me a sympathetic face before getting up from his seat and moving toward his DVD collection.

"What are you in the mood for tonight, milady?"

"Comedy."

"Of course. You know, you really don't have the right taste in movies for a Mossad Officer."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You should like guns and explosions. Not all these funny movies."

"I live with guns and explosions. Did you not think that perhaps I might need a break?"

He contemplates this for a moment as I take a sip of wine.

"I guess I hadn't. Makes sense though. Anyway, what comedy?"

"I do not suppose you would want to watch _Legally Blonde_?"

"I'm very proud to say I don't even own it."

"You pick."

"_Zoolander_ it is." He smiles and I do too.

He puts the DVD in and walks over to me, picking up his own glass.

"Cheers."

"Cheers" I respond, clinking his glass with my own.

I think I could do this every night.

-=-

The next day was surprisingly eventful, even though we did not have a case. Gibbs told Abby not to bother with the forensics we picked up from the Secretary's home, and we disregarded the paperwork for it as well.

I spent most of my time out of the office.

First I went to the gym with Tony, who I can still beat in a spar. He says he was not trying, but I could tell he was (though on more than one occasion he intentionally avoided touching my back).

After that I went to the shooting range. I had not shot my gun in over two months.

It felt good.

McGee had joined me, and I easily out shot him. Not to say he is particularly bad, but I still could have beat him with my eyes closed.

After that I had gone back upstairs and taken the list of psychologists Tony had given me out.

It took a tremendous swallowing of the pride, but I managed to set up an appointment for myself the next afternoon before my dinner with Abby.

It was with Dr. Clark, the doctor that Tony had put a star by. Apparently she had the best recommendations.

I thought about telling him I made an appointment, but it felt odd. Perhaps I will do it at our next movie session, which would be on… Friday.

Today is only Tuesday.

I grimace a little bit, surprisingly saddened by the lack of Tony I am to experience. Well, that is not fair to say as I see him at work.

Still.

I take a sip of water and finish stirring the sauce into the pasta.

Dinner alone.

While a boring pasta and salad dinner by oneself might sound boring, it does not to me. This is a momentous occasion.

The first time I will be eating dinner alone since my return.

When I was with Abby I obviously ate with her unless I was Tony's. I had pizza the first night in my new home with the group, then a housewarming party, then I treated Abby to a special dinner, and of course I went to Tony's the previous night.

I suppose one should not want to eat alone, but it has been two months now.

It is time.

It is time to feel completely independent again; I have been waiting far too long.

And it feels good.

I am not usually a social person. I like being by myself. I like reading. I like thinking. Talking is nice, but sometimes it is best to be in my own head. Sometimes it is best to be by oneself.

I nod, reassuring myself that the emptiness I feel is just my hunger, before I dig on – _in_.

-=-

**--==--**

**Once again, sorry for the wait. Don't worry though, the frequent updates will be back.**

**With a vengeance.**

**Or they'll just be back. Either way.**

**Review?**


	4. 4: All In All

**a/n: I know the past chapter didn't have too much action, but it's still important to the plot.**

**Enjoy some Tony/Ziva interaction in this chapter:**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

Long week. Boring week.

No cases. No cold cases. Not even any paperwork.

Gibbs told us to be productive. To Ziva, this meant working out at the gym every day. To McGee, this meant upgrading and backing up all of his software and files. To me…

Getting jelly donuts?

Occasionally I went with Ziva to work out, but it always ended up with me on the floor – and not in the fun way.

She's a really good fighter.

Other than that, the last few days have pretty much consisted of paper ball basketball, teasing McGoo, and staring aimlessly around the bullpen – mostly at Ziva.

I've been looking at her too much recently.

I know she's probably noticed, but thankfully she hasn't commented on it. Maybe she will tonight. Movie night.

It feels strange to only have two a week. Wednesday was oddly lonely for me. I thought about watching a movie, but decided it would be too weird.

And Ziva even left early from work that day. I sincerely doubt her plans with Abby were that complex.

Oh well. I survived.

"What movie are we watching tonight?" She asks, stepping into my home, bottle of wine in her hand.

"Is that a Merlot? And I'm thinking _A Clockwork Orange_."

"You are sick of the comedies then?"

"Yes." I send her a smile which she returns before we head into the kitchen. "I made some steak for dinner tonight."

"You made steak?" She doesn't hide her surprise well.

"Yeah. It wasn't too hard. You know, I googled instructions, and… voila!" I say nonchalantly.

It was too hard. I'm a good cook, sure. But steaks are usually made with grills. And I don't have a grill.

"I hope you like them rare." She nods. "Your Merlot should go well with this."

"Steak seems too much for watching a movie, Tony."

"Well, I was getting sick of pizza, and it's a Friday night, so I figured we could go fancier."

She gives me a curious look before pulling out two wine glasses. "Do you have a corkscrew?"

"In the drawer next to the silverware." I respond, as I take the steaks out of the oven where I had been keeping them warm. "Do you want the market or the New York?"

"I do not even know what that means."

"Let's go Dutch. Does that expression work for this?" I ask, taking out a knife to cut the steaks in half.

"Do you want me to pay half of what the meal cost?"

"No. I just want to have a little of both."

"Oh. Well, you probably could have just said that." I hear her uncork the bottle. "Do we have any salad?"

"I bought one pre-made, it's in the fridge."

Once again I'm surprised by how much it feels like we're married.

"So, how's your week been?"

"It has been okay. I think I am getting back to the physical shape I was in before. It took long enough. What about you?"

"I played games on my computer." She snorts as she puts some salad on our plates. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"You could have organized. Your desk is a mess."

"I like it messy. Easier to find things."

"You are a confusing man, Anthony DiNozzo."

"Yup." I smile. "I already have the DVD in, so I think it's time to watch. Shall we?"

"I do not think we should have a steak dinner in front of the TV. It feels wrong."

"Oh. Okay. Well the movie can wait. Let's eat."

She begins moving to the small table I've got in my kitchen – have I ever eaten there?

"I'll get the silverware." I say, as she pulls up two chairs I know I've never sat on.

This feels strangely like a date.

"So, how _are_ you doing?" I ask.

"I am fine." She pauses as I take a seat. "I went to see a psychologist. Dr. Clark. The one you recommended."

Oh?

I try to hide my smile. "How'd it go?"

"It was good. She seems nice."

"Is that why you left early on Wednesday?"

"Yes." She pauses again, twirling her fork aimlessly in her fingers. "We did not really talk about anything. It was more just to get to know me."

She seems nervous, and I have no idea why.

"When's your next appointment?" I ask, stuffing a large piece of steak in my mouth.

"Tomorrow."

"She works weekends?"

"Only Saturdays."

I try to give her one of my trademark disarming smiles, but I don't think she appreciates it.

"We don't have to talk about this if it makes you uncomfortable, Ziva."

"I just… I do not know what else to say about it. I am sure it will be good for me, but I do not know yet."

We site in silence for a bit as we eat.

"You know, I went to a psychologist after college."

"How did it go?"

"It definitely helped. I mean, I had just graduated and was still dealing with some past issues."

"Past issues?"

Now she sounds like the psychologist.

"My father wasn't the nicest of men."

"I know the feeling."

"I guess mine can't really compare to yours. I mean, mine didn't train me to be an assassin."

I probably shouldn't have said that.

Ziva coughs and takes a sip of her wine.

I definitely shouldn't have said that.

"I just mean… He wasn't particularly affectionate, and I'm not insinuating that your dad was wrong, and that it's bad to be an assassin-"

"Tony." She stops me, and I'm relieved to see she's smiling. "If I ever have children, I would not want to raise them to be assassins. And for the record, I do not consider myself to be one anymore."

"If you ever have children?"

I don't know why her saying that surprised me. I guess I just never thought about her future too much.

"Well, I do not know if I will have them."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I do not live a child friendly life. To have one would be selfish. I could not give it the attention it needs, and the constant risk of dying on the job would not be good either."

Never thought about it that way.

"So you don't want kids?"

I had grown up on the idea that kids were the most unfortunate thing ever to occur in a man's life, but the more I think about it… The more I'd like to be holding a little DiNozzo. Maybe with brown, floppy hair.

Or black and curly…

"I did not say that. I just do not know how I could responsibly have one."

I'm hit with the sudden, and tremendous urge to explain to Ziva every possible way she could responsibly have a child. And I know exactly why this sudden, tremendous urge hits me.

Though I wish I didn't.

I wish I didn't want to have a kid with her.

And I probably don't. It's probably just the heat of the moment. Thinking about how cute our kids would be…

Anthony DiNozzo doesn't want kids though. And he definitely doesn't want to get married.

And definitely not to Ziva.

"Do you want one?"

Damn denial.

"I don't know." I respond truthfully, looking for a way to change the subject. "What I do want is a new TV – like the one in your house. How big is that? 70 inches?"

I know it was a blatant topic switch, but Ziva goes along with it just fine, and I allow myself to relax.

Anthony DiNozzo definitely does not want to think about having kids. Particularly when the only woman he'd want to have them is right in front of him.

-=-

**--==--**

**I know it was another slow chapter, but the next one has more action.**

**And not in the explosion way. Or the Tiva way.**

**Maybe a little in the Tiva way.**

**Reviews?**


	5. 5: No Other Way

**a/n: Sorry it's been so long. I didn't like the way I wrote this chapter the first time, so I redid it.**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

The scabs are finally gone, leaving only a light pink mark. Most people do not like scars. I do not mind them.

I have more than my fair share as it is.

"It looks fully healed," Ducky says from behind me and I feel him press down on my back. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

"And there has been any pain during your physical activity?"

"None."

"And when was the last time you did feel pain?"

"I do not remember. Over a week."

I feel Ducky drop my shirt and he walks around to face me. "It looks good, my dear."

I smile in response.

"Are there any other physical ailments I should know about?"

"No." I respond honestly. This check up is infinitely better than the last.

"Well, I am not a practitioner, but I do believe you have made a full recovery." My smile spreads wider. "Physically, at least. Have you… seen anyone?"

"Seen anyone?"

"A therapist."

"Oh. Well, yes. Twice."

"How was it?"

"It was not bad. I do not know if it will end up helping. So far it seems rather repetitive."

"When is your next appointment?"

"Monday. So, today…"

"Three in one week? Did she recommend this?"

"Yes. We have not really talked about anything serious during our sessions, and I think that she wants to."

Well, I had told her everything about Africa. And about the team. Before and after. But we have not really _talked_, just recounted experiences.

That is probably why she wants to see me. To _talk_.

And it is not because she thinks I am crazy. Right?

"That seems fair. Well, in my unprofessional opinion, I would say that you are acting a lot more like you. Almost back to normal."

"Almost?"

"Well, I have not done a psychological profile, so I cannot know for sure. But, you seem better. More like you."

"That is good."

"Very."

"I am glad to see your relationships have been mended."

"My relationships?"

"With the team. I know you did not leave on the best of terms, but everyone seems quite congenial now."

"You are referring to Tony, I assume."

He hesitates before continuing. "Yes. Though I do not think it is an unreasonable thing for me to say. You two seem to be getting along fine, which was certainly not the case a few months ago."

I do not know what to say, so I do not say anything.

Our relationship had made a surprisingly quick recovery. But I suppose that has more to do with the fact that we both had regrets on the choices we had made around each other. I wish I had not been so distant with him, and he wishes he had not shot Michael. I assume.

"I'm sorry, that was too intrusive. I'm just glad there are no hard feelings between the two of you."

"Me too."

The comfortable silence that falls between us is interrupted as the doors slide open to reveal Gibbs.

"How is she, Duck?"

"Fully recovered."

I send Gibbs a smile, and I can see the corners of his mouth turn a little bit.

"Gibbs, I forgot to tell you earlier, but I have an appointment later today." I can tell he is about to protest before he realizes what I am referring to.

"When do you need to leave?"

"Same time as Wednesday." I feel very uncomfortable talking about this and I do not know why.

"Take the rest of the day off."

"That is unnecessary."

"Maybe. But you deserve a break, and we have no cases. Take McGee with you."

I contemplate arguing with him, but I realize it would be pointless.

"Not DiNozzo?"

"McGee's sick. We don't need the entire squad room to be too."

This seems very un-Gibbs like, but I do not comment on it.

I am sure he has his reasons, and I am sure I will find those out eventually.

Well, I am not sure of the second part.

-=-

"Did we not go over this on Saturday?" I ask, discontentment evident in my tone.

"We did, but I would like for you to talk about it again."

I sigh, and adjust my hair.

I really do not wish to recount the experience again.

"The events, or my feelings?" I want to roll my eyes as I say it, but I do not want to be rude. She has done nothing wrong.

"You told me everything that happened last time. Let's go with feelings."

"Well, it felt painful."

She gives me a wry smile and makes a small note on her clipboard.

"What were you thinking of while you were… being tortured." She says the last part delicately and it bothers me; we both know what happened, why soften it?

"I cannot recall exact thoughts."

I am not trying to recall exact thoughts either.

"Surely you must remember something."

I focus my attention on the painting behind her head as I contemplate.

"Regret. For leaving NCIS."

I hear her pen scratching away and I return my attention back to the doctor.

"Anything else?"

"I am sure I felt several things." My tone is getting colder and I am sure she has noticed – it is her job after all.

She sighs, and rests her head in a hand for a moment.

"I'm worried, Ziva. I'm worried that you've completely disassociated yourself from this experience. You showed no emotion when you first told me what happened, and now you can't even tell me how you felt. It's as if you've tried to forget."

"Is that not a good thing? I do not want to think about it, so I do not."

"It's okay to not want to think about it, but you shouldn't avoid it and pretend it never happened."

"I am not pretending it never happened. I am just ignoring it."

I realize too late that it was a poor argument.

"When someone goes through such a traumatic experience, it's important that they don't just move on, but that they come to accept it too. If they don't, they are prone to relapses by just a simple trigger."

"What are you telling me to do?"

"Accept it. Come to terms with it."

I am silent for a moment.

"And how do I do that?"

"Have you talked to anyone about this? Excluding me, of course."

"Yes, actually. I have."

"To who?"

How do I describe Tony?

"A friend."

"And that's all. Just one person."

"It is better than none." I respond a little defensively. I did not come here to get chewed out.

"Yes, it absolutely is." She pauses, and I watch as she flips through her notes. "What about your father?"

"What about him?"

"You said he was the one to put you on this mission – have you talked to him at all?"

"Only to tell him about my recovery."

"I think that would be a good place to start. I am assuming you blame him for what happened – at least a little."

I nod.

"Talk to him about it."

"Is that all?"

"No but it's a start."

I nod again, and glance at the clock.

"That's enough on that subject for now. Let's move on… How are things at work?"

"Fine. Good, actually. Normal."

"Normal is good. And how about the relationship you have with Agent Gibbs? He is the one who left you in Israel, correct?"

"I never was angry with Gibbs. I did not give him a choice; he had to leave me."

"And Agent DiNozzo? You said he was the one who shot your boyfriend."

My life is a giant soap opera – I think that is what they are called.

"We are fine."

I really do not know what else to say. Well, I know what else to say, I just do not want to.

"Are you talking?"

"Yes. We have movie nights twice a week – we used to have them three times a week."

"Movie nights?"

"We eat dinner together and watch a movie."

"And this was all after you returned?"

"Yes."

"So you two made a very quick recovery."

I have had this conversation already today.

"We both felt bad for things we did to each other. And we care deeply for one and other as well."

"Is he the _friend_ you shared your experience with?"

"Yes."

"Is he just a friend?" Now I remember why I do not like therapists.

I do not respond, as I am sure she already knows the answer.

"Talk about him. What's he like?"

I thought this therapy was for my time in Somalia – not NCIS.

"Well, he is charismatic. Cocky. Loves movies. Definitely a womanizer."

She is taking notes as I talk, and I find it irritating. She is not supposed to be dealing with my work relationships.

Though, I suppose it is not really a work relationship.

"I do not know… he is annoying, but he is also funny."

"So you like spending time with him."

"Yes."

She smiles at me and glances at the clock.

"Alright, well that's all the time we have today. I'm going to ask you to call your dad tonight, and tell him how you feel about what he did. Tell him the story of the incident."

I nod and get up from my seat.

"And, Ziva. This isn't going to be easy for you, but don't rush it. You need to thoroughly communicate with him."

I nod again and exit the room.

I really do not want to talk to my father, but I suppose I do not have a choice. I mean, I do, of course, have a choice, but I would rather do what Dr. Clark tells me to do.

It is her job, after all.

-=-

**--==--**

**I know, this was an odd chapter, and I'm still not altogether happy with it. I promised you action in this chapter, and I didn't really deliver. I just didn't think the way I wrote it before made sense. This one didn't either.**

**The next one should be good though.**

**Review?**


	6. 6: Sideways

**a/n: Suffice to say, I really didn't like the last chapter. So I'm posting this early.**

**(NOTE: POV's switch mid chapter. Hopefully you're used to this from my previous stories)**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

Ziva cancelled our plans tonight.

Not that it's a big deal.

And I'm sure it was about something important. She mentioned Dr. Clark, so it's probably therapy related.

So it's good for her.

Which means it's good for me.

Which means I don't mind eating alone tonight.

"Could I get a whisky?"

Or drinking alone, as it were.

I don't actually like the taste of whisky. The last time I drank it was when Ziva was still in Africa.

It's one of those drinks one drinks when they're sad.

But I'm not sad, so I guess I shouldn't have ordered it.

"Five dollars." The bartender says, handing me the cup.

I pay him before taking a long sip.

God, it tastes disgusting.

Seriously, why did I come here? I mean, I see Ziva every day. It's not like we're going to stop movie nights altogether.

But even if we were, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. I mean, we're friends. We don't need to schedule certain times to see each other.

I sigh and take another sip.

Friends.

That's all we are, and all we will be. For a while at any rate.

She clearly isn't ready for a relationship.

And am I?

I mean, if, hypothetically speaking, I were to start a relationship with her, it wouldn't be the same as any of the other few I've had.

It's Ziva.

I'm not going to mess things up with Ziva.

I _can't_ mess things up with Ziva.

That thought scares me.

"You here alone tonight?" I hear a voice from behind me say.

"Very much alone." I respond, turning to face the woman as she takes a seat on the barstool next to me.

"Well, that can be changed."

I send her a large smile.

She's pretty. Probably around twenty-six. Blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs… typical Barbie girl.

Typical DiNozzo girl.

"What are you drinking?" I ask.

This should be a good distraction.

"Whatever you are."

"Trust me, you don't want to drink this." I laugh, before choking down another mouthful.

"How about a mojito then?"

I grin and change my attention from her to the bartender.

"Could we get a mojito down here? White rum, not vodka."

"You think rum tastes better?" She asks, placing a hand lightly on my arm.

"I think it gets you drunk faster." She laughs and flips her hair back.

I had forgotten how easy this is.

"So what's your name?"

"Tony. But my friends call me Tony."

"I'm Sarah."

"You always go for older men, Sarah?"

"Only when they look like you."

"Not many do."

"Come on. You can't be over thirty five."

"Just barley." I smile as the bartender brings back her drink.

She gives a sultry smile back.

"Cheers," I say, raising my glass and clinking it to hers.

"Cheers." She takes a slow, seductive sip through her straw and I wonder what I'm doing.

_Breaking my dry spell._

"So why don't we skip the drinks?" She asks, as I take another sip.

"Because clearly I love the taste of whisky."

"Then let's have some at your place."

God help me I'm good.

But I don't want this.

Damn it.

Why don't I want this?

A hot, meaningless night of worry free sex… Every guy's dream.

But Ziva's in my head.

Damn it.

"I think you can do better than me for the night."

"What?"

"I'm really not the guy you're looking for."

She gives a short laugh, as if she thinks I'm joking. I wish I were.

"I'm in a complicated situation right now, and don't get me wrong, you're a very, _very_ pretty girl…"

_But the man I am becoming needs a woman._

I place five dollars on the counter. "For your drink." I say, and begin walking out, leaving a very confused Sarah behind me.

My frat brothers would be on my ass for giving up that opportunity, but it doesn't matter.

Because I want Ziva.

I need Ziva.

-=-

**-=-**

-=-

"Shalom." His voice is as cold as always and I wonder if he has caller ID.

"Aba? It is Ziva."

"Ziva? It is two in the morning. What is the matter?"

"Nothing. I just… I need to talk to you."

"Are you hurt? Are you not healing?" His voice is frantic, and I am surprised by how worried he sounds.

"It is not that. I am well. Physically, I am fully healed."

"Well, that is excellent news."

"Yes." I take a deep breath before continuing. "I did not call about my health though."

"What did you call about?"

"I…" Well, this is hard. "I want to talk to you about the mission you sent me on."

He is silent for a moment. "This could not have waited till tomorrow?"

"No, it could not."

"Very well."

"You sent me on a mission that was sure to end in my death."

"If I had done that, then you would be dead."

"I came close enough. I was tortured, in case you had forgotten. I was beat, and cut, and hit, and stabbed, and… you just do not seem to care that it was you made it happen."

"It was not me who made it happen. Ziva, when you joined Mossad, you knew the risks that came along with it. I am sorry if your time in America made you forget."

"I am your daughter! Fathers do not send their daughters on missions like that!" I am yelling at him now, not caring about the neighbors I know have no choice but to listen through the walls.

"You also knew that I could not give any of my children preferential treatment. It is unprofessional."

"It is family! Obviously a concept you have never understood."

"And do you understand it? You shot Ari."

"On your orders!"

"But you still carried them out."

"Did you ever even care about him? Did you ever even care about Tali?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Really? Because you ordered one to be killed, and the other… you were so… apathetic when she was killed. You did not even cry."

He is silent again, and I find myself choking back tears.

"Did you ever even care about me? You never showed it, if you did. Ima was always the one to care for me. You showed no interest. You were the one who signed me up for ballet, and yet you never went to one recital. Not one."

"I care about you, Ziva." He says quietly, but it is too late. I will not be stopped now.

"Because I am the only one left? Because I am the only one who can provide you grandchildren?"

"Because you are my daughter."

"It certainly does not seem like it. I almost died two months ago. And yet you have not seen me since you sent me on the mission. Most fathers would at least visit. You…" I cannot finish the thought as tears overtake my speech.

"I am the Chief of Mossad. I cannot leave Tel Aviv for personal reasons."

"No. You can. You just won't."

"I am sorry." He says it as I try to contain my tears. "I know I have not been the best of fathers to you."

"I do not even think you have been a father to me."

I hear him cough, and I know my words have hurt him.

I do not care.

When we spoke in MTAC, I told him he was not my father. We both disregarded it as a heat of the moment thing.

Now…

"I do not know why I still seek your affection, as I know I will get none. I grew up with this constant desire to please you, so you might show some sort of warmth to me. I always wanted to make you proud. But you never cared. And you still do not."

"That is not true."

"You always put work over me."

"Because my job is to keep Israel safe. And in keeping Israel safe, I am keeping you safe." His voice is raw with emotion I do not think I have heard before. "I grew up with conflicts. More than you have ever lived through. Forgive me, for trying to protect my family from that kind of life."

I know he is telling the truth, but it does nothing to pacify my raging hatred for the man.

"Do you know why I joined Mossad? To impress you. To make you proud. You did not care."

"I never wanted you to join! You… you were supposed to become a doctor, or lawyer… never an assassin."

"You trained me! You got Ari to teach me how to fight… how to shoot. How can you tell me you did not want me to be Mossad?"

"It was so you could protect yourself. We lived in a dangerous world. You would have learned those skills in the military anyway."

We share an angry silence as I pace around my living room.

"You were always fiery, Ziva. Always ready to defend yourself. In the end, Mossad suited you perfectly."

"NCIS suits me better."

"Perhaps it does."

I feel I am on the verge of tears again.

"I do love you, and I hope one day you will understand why I lived the way I did. Why I raised you the way I did."

"I understand now. I just do not agree."

He pauses. "I am glad to hear you are feeling better."

And with that, I snap my phone shut before throwing myself on the couch, fresh tears stinging my eyes.

Asshole.

Before I know what I am doing, my phone is open again, and my fingers are hitting familiar buttons.

"Ziva?" I hear him say.

"Tony. I would like to watch a movie at my house tonight."

-=-

**--==--**

**I hope this one made up for the last installment.**

**And the next chapter… I'm excited just thinking about it. Get ready. It's a doozy and a half.**

**Review s'il vous plait.**


	7. 7: No Other Way

**a/n: Heh.**

**This chapter warrants the T rating.**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

"You want to watch a movie?" I repeat, getting up from my recumbent position on the couch.

"I believe that is what I said."

"Okay… do you want me to bring it? Do you even have a DVD player?"

"Yes, and yes. And I do not care what movie, just pick something out and come over here."

Who am I to deny a request like that?

"On my way." I say before closing my phone.

Good thing I didn't bring Sarah home.

There was something about Ziva's voice… something I can't place. Desperation?

Was she missing the movie night too?

"Clearly, as she just asked me to see one" I mumble aloud to myself, picking out a couple comedies from my collection.

Does she want pizza? She probably has food already… Should I bring wine?

Why am I so nervous?

I grab a bottle of red wine that I don't look at before heading out the door.

It's not a long walk between our apartments, but I'm not usually the one who makes it.

Though I don't know why. I mean, she clearly has the bigger TV. And the nicer, _cleaner_ home. Not to mention she's a great cook.

I mostly just provide pizza.

My inner musings have lasted me as far as the street, and I don't hesitate in jaywalking.

Maybe she chickened out on whatever the doctor wanted her to do. Or maybe the doctor ordered her to watch a movie with me.

I snort as I open the door to her building.

If only.

Seriously though, this is a little late for a movie – and on a work night no less.

What am I, twelve? I pull all-nighters all the time for my job. Suck it up DiNozzo.

The elevator dings, and I step inside, hitting the button for the third floor.

Really though, why am I nervous? We're going to watch a movie, maybe eat something and then be done with it.

Like we always do. Clockwork.

The doors slide open again and I jump out, quickly walking down the hall.

There must have been something in her voice that I subconsciously picked up on, because there is no logical reason for me to be this anxious.

I knock on her door lightly as I hold the wine bottle up to the peephole.

"Zee-Vah." I call after she doesn't answer. "It's me. I brought the entertainment."

I'm in the middle of knocking again as the door opens to reveal a very…

Ziva.

Her hair is down and curly. Her eyes are dark, and…

Jesus.

She's giving me _that_ look.

I slowly step inside, handing her the wine as I put the DVDs on the table in her entryway.

"So, I um… I didn't know what you wanted to watch… so… here are some options." I'm having trouble getting the words out, so I stop there.

Her eyes haven't left my own, and I have absolutely no desire to look away from her.

She takes a step closer to me, and I can smell the vanilla of her body wash as she reaches to close the door.

"Ziva…" I start quietly, as she doesn't move back, but continues to look up at me, her mouth slightly parted.

God, she's beautiful.

I'm tempted to tell her this, but I don't get the opportunity as my lips are suddenly being covered by hers.

Wait. What?

Her hands are in my hair when I decide to start kissing back, and I'm rewarded with her low moan.

I place my hands on her hips as she slowly begins pushing me back against the door.

I'm kissing Ziva. Actually, physically, full on kissing Ziva. And she's actually, physically, full on kissing me back.

Maybe we should skip movie nights more often.

I feel her tongue brush against my lower lip and I let out a groan as I push her away.

"What are you doing?" She asks, her voice husky.

What am I doing? A very good question.

"Ziva, we probably shouldn't be doing this."

What the hell am I doing?

"You were the one who wanted to do this a few weeks ago. Now I want to as well."

"You aren't ready."

"What makes you say that?"

"You just… We haven't…" I have nothing to say, so I stop talking. She gives me another seductive look as she places a hand on my chest.

"We have not what, Tony? We both want this – we both need this…" Her voice is slightly hoarse and her eyes seem read and – Jesus, she's kissing me again.

And her lips are on mine, and her body is against me, and she lets out another moan, and there is no way I can stop now.

"Ziva," I murmur against her lips as I wrap my arms around her waist.

"Tony," She replies, moving her hands from my chest to my head.

"Bedroom."

I feel her nod, and she starts walking backwards, pulling me with her.

Our lips don't leave the other's as we make our way through her apartment, bumping into various objects and walls along the way.

Her hands reaches for my belt buckle as we fumble into her room, and I try to kick off my shoes while maintaining my balance.

I feel my pants loosen and I smile against her before she pulls back. I'm about to protest before I see her shirt being pulled over her head, revealing a skimpy, black-laced bra.

Normally I would stop and enjoy the view, but right now I just want Ziva, and I immediately resume kissing her once the shirt is discarded.

She leaves space between us only to unbutton my top and I let my hands roam her exposed skin.

This cannot be happening.

"Tony…" She moans again, but her voice isn't the same. It's more hoarse. It's filled with anxiety, and distress.

I pull back to see her eyes shinning, though she tries to hid this by drawing me into another kiss.

"Ziva," I start, pushing her lightly away. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She says, and suddenly I realize she's been crying for a while; since before I arrived.

How did I not notice?

Well, I know how I didn't notice, but it doesn't make me feel any better.

I pull her closer to me again, though this time in the form of a hug. I feel her head nuzzle into my chest and I hear the muffled sound of a sob.

Damn it.

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing.

It's been a while since Ziva broke down like this.

I don't like it.

I lower my head to lay a small kiss in her hair and she pulls back.

"I am sorry, Tony, I just…" She stops, and I know it's hard for her.

"Hey, you can tell me later. Just… Let's just…" I don't know whether she wants to go to sleep or watch a movie.

It's late, but maybe she needs a distraction from whatever is bothering her.

"Tony," She starts softly. "Can you… stay with me tonight?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

Ziva leaves for the bathroom, I assume to change into more comfortable clothes, and I take a seat on the bed.

Twice I almost had sex tonight and yet I think I'm happier just sleeping with Ziva. I mean, literally sleeping with her, obviously.

Well, I'd rather _sleep with her_ if she were, you know… Okay. But since there's clearly something bothering her…

I run a hand through my hair. I guess I should get comfortable too. And since I'm pretty sure she doesn't have any clothes that might fit me…

I finish unbuttoning my shirt and peel it off as she steps out of the bathroom, clad in a baggy t-shirt and shorts.

She gives me a sheepish smile before quickly hopping on the bed and sliding under her covers.

I don't know if I should take my pants off… why is this so awkward now?

_Because I almost had sex with Ziva._

I begin the process of pulling down my slacks as I move to turn of the light.

"I really am sorry, Tony." She says as I begin the dark walk back to bed. "It is just… my father…"

"Shh…" I mumble, sliding into bed next to her, and loosely placing an arm on her side. "Tell me tomorrow. Let's just sleep now."

I can just make out her nod in the dim lighting, and I decide to pull her closer.

"Just sleep…" I mutter as I feel her head rest on my chest and her arm drape around my back.

This feels oddly normal as I place another kiss on the top of her head.

And one day, maybe it will be.

-=-

**--==--**

**Hope it lived up to the high expectations I set.**

**Review please. I'd like to know how I did.**


	8. 8: All In All

**a/n: I really dislike it when authors say "life caught up with me" as an excuse for not updating.**

**That being said, life caught up with me, and I didn't have the time to post this chapter till now. Hopefully I'll get the next one up at my normal pace.**

**Sorry for the wait.**

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

Tony's fingers are slowly twisting the ends of my hair. They have been for quite some time.

I do not think he knows I am awake, and I am in no mood to inform him.

I nuzzle my head a little further into his chest, and he freezes. After I remain still long enough for him to believe I am sleeping, he resumes his ministrations.

He does not seem like the gentle, caring type, but I am constantly surprised by his actions.

I do feel bad. Last night was completely unfair to him, and yet, here he is. He did not complain, he did not leave…

Tony really does not seem like that type of man.

"Ziva," I hear him whisper, as he brushes the hair away from my ear. "It's time to wake up. We have work."

I mumble an incoherent thought against his chest and he laughs.

"I'm going to go take a shower, and I expect to see you up by the time I get back." He pulls away, and I feel empty at the lack of warmth next to me.

I hear the bathroom door close, and I slowly sit up, glancing at the clock.

Six AM.

We could have remained in bed for another hour.

_Might as well make use of the time._

-=-

I hear Tony walk in but I do not look up.

"Smells good – what you making, Zee-Vah?"

"If you were to look, you would know."

"I can smell it anyway. Eggs and Bacon have a very distinct odor."

"Then why ask the question?"

"Conversation?"

I turn to send him a skeptical look.

"What are you going to wear to work today?"

"This."

"That is what you wore yesterday."

"Without the jacket and tie. But I don't exactly have a lot of options here."

"I suppose that is fair. You would not fit into my jeans."

"Though it would mean I finally got into your pa-" He stops himself, a look of sheer terror on his face. "Not that… I mean it's not like… Hey, don't you normally go on runs in the morning?"

"Normally." I respond, letting his comment slide. "But it was not a normal morning."

"Don't often wake up in bed with an extraordinarily handsome man?"

"Actually, I do. That is why this morning was so odd." I stick out my tongue and he winces.

"I'm hurt. Truly."

"I am sure the bacon will fix that." I mumble, placing the cooked food onto a serving platter.

"You know me too well."

I feel like things should be more awkward between us, but they are not. It is strange.

"Thank you again for last night. It seems I am making this a habit."

"Making what a habit?" He asks, serving himself some food.

"Emotional breakdowns late at night." I try to say it nonchalantly, as if I were joking.

I am not.

"What was wrong anyways? Sorry, that sounds rude-"

"My father." I interrupt. "I had a conversation with him last night… It did not go well."

He nods, sticking a long piece of bacon into his mouth.

"Suffice to say I do not intend to talk to him again soon."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got another father then." His words are almost incoherent through the food, but I just make it out.

"What do you mean?"

"Gibbs. He's more of a father to me than mine ever was. I assume it's the same for you."

I take a moment to consider this as I begin eating my meal. It is not far off from the truth. He certainly cares for me more than mine.

"But Ziva," he starts, interrupting my thoughts. "I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need someone, I'm here. Well, technically I'm just across the street. But you get the idea."

"I know. And thank you."

I do not deserve him.

He gives me a small smile and he resumes eating.

I have treated him so unfairly…

"And also about last night Tony," he lifts his head to look at me. "I am ready, and I do want this – or us – or whatever you want to call it."

"Go out with me then. On a date. A proper one, that doesn't involve movies or pizza"

"I can do that."

"Friday?"

"Perfect."

I do not try to hide my smile.

-=-

"Did you call your father?" She asks almost as soon as I sit down.

"Yes."

Dr. Clark opens the cap of her pen before continuing. "How did it go?"

"I have had better conversations."

She chuckles a little, and it is oddly disarming.

"I assume you told him how you felt then?"

"About everything."

"Good. And how did it feel?"

I pause. It had been, what, four days? Today is Thursday, and if I am still feeling the effects of the exchange now, I suppose "bad" does not do it justice.

"Suffice it to say that I do not wish to speak to my father again soon."

She smiles, jotting down a few notes.

"So, how are you doing?"

"Better." I reply honestly.

"More normal?"

"Yes."

"You seem happier. Was the call that cathartic?"

"Oh, well yes, but I do not think that is why I am happy."

She is silent, waiting for me to elaborate.

"I just am. Things are going better."

"Work wise?"

"Yes, work wise. People wise as well."

"Any person in particular?"

"I have a date with Tony. Or, Agent DiNozzo as you know him." She smiles, and I find myself smiling too.

"So your relationship really has healed…"

"Yes. I just… I feel like we are stronger than we were before." There is something about Dr. Clark's smile that is making me open up. It feels good. "I trust him implicitly, and he has truly helped me through this experience. Every step of the way."

"Sounds like a good guy."

"He is."

"When's the date?"

"Tomorrow."

"Do you think it will go anywhere – the relationship, I mean."

"Yes. I truly do."

She makes a few notes before returning her attention to me.

"Well, I know we just started, but I think we're done here."

"Forever?"

"No. You still have some more steps to get through, but you're on your way."

"So why am I leaving now? I would like to fully recover as soon as possible. And, for the record, I already do feel fully recovered."

"I don't think I have anything else I want you to talk about today. It's a process. You can't just snap your fingers and get better."

"Are you just saying this to get me to pay more?"

"No. But NCIS's insurance covers this anyway." She grins and I laugh. "In all seriousness though, it's going to take time to get you to where you were. But you're doing better, and that's certainly a start."

I nod, and she stands up.

"Good luck tomorrow. I actually met Agent DiNozzo; he was researching local psychologists in the area for a _friend_. From what I can tell, he seems like a wonderful guy."

"I am lucky to have him."

"Well, I'll see you next… Tuesday then?"

I nod, before making my way out the door.

I never thought Psychologists were all that helpful, or that I would ever need one; I am a Mossad Officer after all. Emotional problems are things we must move past.

But I think that maybe this might be helping.

Maybe.

-=-

**--==--**

**Once again, sorry for the wait.**

**I really will try to put up the next chapter ASAP.**

**Reviews?**


	9. 9: Waiting

**a/n: Your reviews are amazing. Thank you so much!**

**There are a couple of odd time jumps in this chapter. Just view it as an episode of **_**Lost**_**. Except none of them go backwards…**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

I probably shouldn't have waited until today to decide what we're doing on our date. I guess I was just hoping for an epiphany of some sort to tell me what we should do.

But that never came.

So now, in around… ten hours, I will be going on a date with Ziva David.

Where?

No idea.

And she's sitting, just staring at me, as if she knows. It's more than a little intimidating.

In all fairness, I have been trying. It's just hard.

In the past, I would have called myself the master of first dates; I went on a new one practically every night and always had the girl in bed by the end.

But this… This is different.

This is Ziva.

_Ziva_.

I sigh, and run a hand along my jaw.

We definitely aren't going to the movies. A romantic dinner is too boring. She probably wouldn't appreciate something as childish as mini-golf or bowling…

Romantic dinner it is.

You'd think that for all the time I spent wanting, and waiting for this to happen, I'd be a little more prepared.

I don't even know what kind of restaurant we'd go to. Should it be fancy? What kind of food should it serve? How far away should it be?

_One step at a time, DiNozzo._

Yes, it should be fancy.

Food… Not Italian… I wonder if there are any good Israeli restaurants in the area. Actually, she once made a comment about Cuban food…

Was it that she liked it or hated it?

Doesn't matter; I can't really think of any fancy Cuban places in the area.

But maybe I don't want to be fancy. I mean, she might feel uncomfortable wearing a dress, what with her scars.

I hide the report I was typing up and do a google search of local Cuban restaurants.

"Ziva, how do you feel about Cuba?" I ask, not looking at her as I type away.

"As a nation? Well, I am allowed to visit, and you are not."

"First off, not true; I've been to Gitmo before. Secondly, I was talking about the cuisine."

"I enjoy it. Are we going to a Cuban place tonight?"

"I had been planning on it." Sort of.

"Sounds good." She says, returning her attention to her computer.

_That was easy._

I scroll down the list of restaurants, opening the only one with a five star rating a few miles away from Silver Spring. Perfect.

"Do you want to go home first, or just come straight from work?"

She gives me an odd look before looking down at her outfit.

"I think I would like to change…"

"I mean it's not a formal place. And you look fine." She raises her eyebrows. I wasn't aware the date was starting now… "You look good. Great even."

"I would prefer to change anyway."

"Sounds good. So, I'll pick you up at seven-ish?"

"Seven isn't a good time for me, DiNozzo." Gibbs says, walking into the bullpen.

"Seven is fine." Ziva says, ignoring Gibbs's interruption. "Though I am not sure how much 'picking up' you will have to do. I live across the street."

"I can make the walk."

"Hey." Gibbs says loudly, and I flinch. "If you're going to blatantly break rule twelve, don't talk about it in front of me."

"Got it, boss."

"DiNozzo." He says, looking me straight in the eyes.

And I thought Ziva was intimidating.

"My office."

Ziva sends me a worried look and I shrug before following Gibbs to the elevator, trying to appear nonchalant.

As soon as the door closes he flicks the switch.

"Keep it out of the office."

"I know, you told me this before-"

"I'm not done." He adds a slap on the back of my head for extra effect. "You better be damn serious about this."

"I am."

"She won't just be another one of your escapades."

"She won't."

"If anything goes wrong in this relationship, I'm blaming you."

I'm tempted to argue, but Gibbs sends me the death glare. "Understood."

"Vance isn't going to be happy about this."

"Vance isn't happy about a lot of things."

"He might want to transfer one of you to another team."

"And I know you'd stop him. Actually, Abby would probably get to him first."

He doesn't smile, but I can tell he wants to.

"Don't screw this up." He says, flipping the elevator back on.

I feel like we've had this conversation before.

And I feel like we're probably going to have it again.

He sends me another daunting look as we step out.

Oh yeah. We're definitely going to have this conversation again.

-=-

"You look amazing." I say as Ziva closes the apartment door behind her.

She smiles, and I see a hint of a blush creep up on her cheeks.

Ziva is blushing. I made Ziva David blush. And with a single compliment no less.

"Thank you, Tony. You do not look so bad yourself."

She isn't wearing anything fancy, just a skirt and a sweater.

Then again, Ziva doesn't wear skirts often.

I grasp her hand in mine and we begin walking down the hall.

"So, what is the plan for the night?" She asks as we wait for the elevator.

"Just dinner."

Saying it out loud makes it feel lame. _Just dinner_. That's the best I could do?

"Sounds perfect." She smiles at me, and I feel her hand squeeze mine lightly as we step in the lift.

"It does."

-=-

"Ziva, I really don't think you have enough qualification to make that kind of statement."

"I have seen the movies. What more qualification do I need?"

"That's not… I mean… No one is denying that Daniel Craig is good. But to compare him to Sean Connery? It's just…"

"It is just what?"

"Blasphemy!"

"To compare actors to religion is blasphemy."

"You're missing the point here. No one can ever live up to Connery's Bond. Ever."

"I do not think you have enough qualification make that kind of statement."

I stare at her, mouth agape as we exit the elevator on her floor.

Dinner had gone well. Until this little snafu. She can't actually be serious…

"Next movie night, we're re-watching _Goldfinger_."

"Next movie night, we are re-watching _Goldfinger _then _Casino Royale_."

"Done. Maybe comparing them back to back will help you come to your senses."

"I am already at my senses, Tony." She says, releasing my hand as we reach her apartment.

I stand uncomfortably a few feet away as she unlocks her door and opens it.

"Are you not coming in?" She asks.

"Well, normally this is where we stand awkwardly on the doorstep for a few minutes, waiting for the other one to make the first move."

She furrows her eyebrows before taking a few steps toward me.

"That sounds like a waste of time." Instead of giving me time to respond, she places her hands on my chest and gives me a light kiss.

"That does seem like the more effective way of doing things."

She smiles before walking into her apartment, leaving the door open.

I don't hesitate in following her.

-=-

**--==--**

**I had trouble deciding how to do the whole "date" thing. I decided to kind of leave it up to your imagination. In fairness, it would be boring to read a thousand words of mindless table talk.**

**Also, sorry to leave you hanging there, but the next chapter will quite literally pick up where this one left off.**

**It also will merit the T rating, so kiddies be warned.**

**Then again, I don't think anyone under the age of like… 14 is reading this. And any content I'm going to write in a fic I'm sure a 14 year old will have no problem reading.**

**Whatever. Review please =]**


	10. 10: Look After You

**a/n: The penultimate chapter in this little trilogy. And I'm for real this time. This is really it. I'm not writing another eleven chaptered story. At least, not in relation to this one. The circuitry is there. It's just… it's time for it to end soon.**

_**This chapter has a T rating. Be aware.**_

**Ziva's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

I hear Tony follow me in and I drop my purse on the table, turning to face him.

He shuts the door before taking the short steps towards me. I reach for his hand, pulling him closer.

I want this. He wants this.

Why wait?

His head lowers as we kiss, my arms wrapping loosely around his waist.

He is very good at this. It makes me wonder why we waited so long.

I moan as his hands move across my back.

This is nothing like Monday. That had been rushed, filled with all the unbridled sexual frustration we had been building up for the past few years. This is slow, and relaxing, and just overall enjoyable.

Not that the other time was not enjoyable… but now we are not hurrying. We can take our time.

We know that we are not making a mistake, and we know that we want this.

There is no miscommunication; there are no hard feelings… just lips, bodies, and a lot of passion.

"Ziva," he mumbles as I move my hands to his chest, slowly working on the buttons of his shirt.

He slowly pulls back, moving a hand up to my face.

"You sure you're ready?" His voice is full of compassion as his eyes search mine.

I do not like the question, though I know it is fair; I have lead him on too many times. But I will not tonight.

"Yes."

I see his lips curl up in a smile before they are against mine again.

I resume working on his shirt as we take slow steps towards my bedroom. His hands withdraw from my back and he helps me finish the task of removing his top.

I smile, running my hands through the light tufts of hair on his chest, and I hear his intake of breath as I move them lower, down to his belt buckle.

His hands close over my wrists, pulling them up as I send him a confused look.

"We're a little uneven right now."

What?

He begins to lift the hem of my shirt as I furrow my brow.

Oh.

I help him out, pulling the sweater over my head, revealing the dark green bra I am sure he appreciates.

I discard the top on the floor as he unabashedly looks me over. I am not the type to be embarrassed when exposed. If anything, I find it flattering.

And Tony's child-on-Christmas smile says more than words could.

"Ziva…" He says before drawing me in for another enthusiastic kiss.

His hands are warm on my now bare skin, and they run slowly down my back.

I groan softly as he pulls back and stops moving.

"Ziva…" He says again, though his voice is not the same. I feel him trace a line across my back…

The scar.

He can feel it?

I avoid his eyes as he continues feeling the mark.

_Now_ I am embarrassed.

"Hey," he says gently, using one of his hands to push my chin up, before giving me a soft kiss. "You know how I got this?"

He motions to the inch long scar gracing his jaw. I shake my head.

"Fell in the shower when I was eleven. My father was working so I had to call an ambulance to get to hospital. Ended up with nine stitches."

He points to another mark just below his shoulder.

"Got this on my first case as a metro cop. We were busting a petty drug dealer, and I tried to put the cuffs on him when _bam_. Knife in the chest."

I run my fingers lightly over the mark as he continues.

"Giant rookie mistake, and I almost got killed for it."

I can tell he is about to show me another but I interrupt him.

"This one on my ear I got when I was seven. I was at a slumber party, and my friend's older sister wanted to give us earrings. She tried it out on me first."

"Take it she didn't try again."

I shake my head.

Tony unbuckles his belt and unceremoniously pulls down his pants. He turns around and lowers his boxers just enough for me to see the wound.

"Horsing accident. I've never been able to look at those animals the same since."

I can beat him at this game, and I think he knows it. I opt against all the various cuts and scrapes I got in Somalia instead thinking of Cairo.

I pull down my pants, and push Tony to a sitting position on the bed behind him.

"Do you know why I got that tattoo?" I ask, revealing the Hebrew words lining my inner thigh.

"I do not."

"To hide the mark of a bullet graze."

His eyes widen in surprise as he visibly focuses on the spot. "Never would've guessed that…"

I smile and he scoots back on the bed, allowing me space to sit in front of him.

"This one on my left shoulder…" I start, positioning my arm to show him. "Cigarette burn. My brother told me if I could withstand it till it got cold, I was tough enough to be Mossad."

"I take it you passed."

"Twice."

He grazes the mark with his lips before speaking. "If you look close enough, you can see I have a little line on my forehead. Took an elbow in a basketball game. Ended up with a concussion too."

"I have two on my forehead. One from Morocco, and one from when Hoffman, the serial killer, nearly killed me."

Instead of kissing the scars, he goes for my lips.

"You win."

"I still have more."

"Stop rubbing it in."

He pulls me down on top of him as we resume kissing.

My embarrassment at the various scars across my body is gone, and I have no problem picking up right where we left off.

My hands are in his hair and his are fumbling with my bra clasp. I can hear his breathing become shallower as the reality of what we are about to do sets in on him. And on me.

This is not Phillip Stevens, the marine who I so desperately needed comfort from in Kenya. This is not Michael Rivkin, my friend-turned-lover who was more than willing to provide me pleasure. This is not any of the men I had slept with in relationships before.

This is Tony. And this is right.

-=-

I had always known I would one day sleep with him.

I just did not think it would be like this.

Realistically, I figured it would be on a drunken whim, both enjoying each other and then forgetting it in the morning.

I thought it would be a fight for dominance. I thought it would be rushed and fiery, filled with the ardor that comes with released sexual tension.

I did not expect it to be like it actually was.

Sweet, slow, and passionate.

I did not expect Tony would immediately wrap his arms around me after we finished, and I did not expect him to kiss me as he fell asleep.

But that is what happened. And that is why I am lying next to him, our bodies sweaty, our lips bruised, and cheeks flushed, waiting for sleep to overtake me.

And I love it.

-=-

**--==--**

**Yeah, so… that's that chapter…**

**Er… Only one more left. Not that it matters. And not that I'm sad. Cause I'm totally not sad.**

**But this chapter made you happy I hope?**


	11. 11: Rise

**a/n: Here it is… the last chapter.**

**I feel like I should give credit to all the songs that I used as titles throughout the trilogy. Feel free to skip over this if you don't care:**

Happiness, The Fray; From Where You Are, Lifehouse; Fall Away, The Fray; 3 AM, Matchbox 20; A Murder of One, Counting Crows; A Bad Dream, Keane  
One Thing, Finger Eleven; Sunny Days, Joshua Radin; Last Request, Paolo Nutini; Breakdown, Jack Johnson; Gravity, John Mayer; Breathing, Lifehouse  
Rise, Eddie Vedder; Look After You, The Fray; Waiting, Green Day; All In All, Lifehouse; No Other Way, Jack Johnson; Sideways, Citizen Cope

**So… yeah…**

**Enjoy:**

**Tony's POV:**

**--==--**

-=-

I like waking up with Ziva in my arms.

That's a lie. I love waking up with Ziva in my arms.

Her head buried in the crook of my neck, our legs intertwined under only the sheet we have covering us… It's incredible.

I can hear her snore quietly and I smile, twirling a bit of her hair with my fingers.

I don't actually know why I'm awake. It's early. Light is just starting to make its way through the window, giving the room a dull orange glow.

Ziva looks really pretty in this lighting. Well, Ziva looks really pretty in any lighting. But she looks especially beautiful right now.

Maybe it's not that she looks any different, but it's that she's next to me. Naked. After an unbelievable night.

I'm hit with the sudden urge to kiss her, and I realize, with a grin, that I can. Anytime I want.

We don't have to tip toe around the issue anymore. I want it. She wants it. Gibbs okayed it.

And it's about damn time.

It's odd to think that, what, three months ago? She left NCIS because she didn't trust me. She held a loaded gun to my chest. She didn't even want to see me.

_Not anymore_.

I smile, and move my other hand to her lower back, tracing the scar.

I still feel a little sick when I think of it. I don't like the sight of Ziva being hurt. It's just unnatural.

But the scar is healed. She is healed. We are healed.

And it feels good.

I allow my eyes to close as I feel the exhaustion set in. I don't really know how late we were up last night, but I know it was late enough for me to not be awake at this hour.

I hear her mumble something incoherent against my neck and my smile widens as I pull her a little closer before letting sleep overtake me.

-=-

Her hands are running gently across my chest and her lips are placing small kisses along my jaw.

Not a bad way to wake up.

"Morning, sweet cheeks." I say, and she stops her ministrations.

"Good morning, my little hairy butt."

I smile before leaning in to kiss her.

"You have morning breath." She states, pulling back.

"I don't think I can be blamed for that."

She laughs before kissing me again. "Luckily for you, I do not mind."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly eight." She replies, removing herself from my grasp.

I frown.

"Where are you going?"

"Shower. We smell like sex."

"Some might say that's a good thing." She sends me a look before hopping out of bed. I'm a little disappointed at the lack of a body next to me but watching her walk away certainly makes up for it. "Want company? The shower can be awfully lonely…"

She turns around, which I certainly don't mind, before speaking. "That would not take care of the problem at foot."

"At hand. And it's a Saturday. We've got all day to get clean. Or dirty."

"That was a bad one."

"Felt good. So what do you say?"

She looks contemplative before turning back around and walking into the bathroom. "Are you coming?" I hear her ask before the shower starts running.

Is that even a question?

Hell yes I am.

-=-

It took us forty minutes, but we finally got cleaned off.

Best shower I've ever had.

"Hey, I think I'm going to head back to my place to get some fresh clothes." She nods, brushing her hair as I dress in yesterdays outfit. "But, we should definitely do this again some time."

I say it with a smile that she returns. "The rule in America is two days, right? For you to call?"

"That's what I always do."

"Then should I expect a call on Monday."

"Actually, I was thinking more like ten minutes. Or however long it takes me to get changed. How does lunch sound?"

"It sounds like a plan."

I finish buckling my belt before walking towards her.

"I'll see you soon then?"

"Very." She replies before I cover her lips with my own.

"Goodbye, my ninja."

"Walk safely."

I'm smiling as I walk through Ziva's apartment, and I'm smiling as I walk out of it.

Life's good. It's like things are back to normal. Only better.

Yeah, it took us a while to get here, but you know what? I don't give a crap. We're here now. I'm dating Ziva. Ziva and I are dating.

Dating.

And who knows what that will lead to.

_I do._

The image of Ziva in a white dress fills my head as I step in the elevator. And it doesn't scare me.

I know we've only been on one date, but it feels like a hell of a lot more. So is it that wrong that I'm already thinking of a wedding?

Okay, it's probably a little weird. But I'm okay with it.

Though I really shouldn't look too far in the future anyway. Yeah, it's inevitable, and one day I'll have to think about it, but right now I should just enjoy life.

Because it's going pretty damn well.

Maybe one day I will get to see Ziva in a wedding dress, walking towards me. Maybe one day I'll get to hold a little DiNozzo, or David. Maybe one day I'll be even happier then I am right now.

Maybe.

But at the same time, maybe that won't happen. Maybe one of us will get transferred. Maybe one of us will get shot. We work a dangerous job, and casualties are bound to occur.

But you know what? Screw it. I'm not going to think about it.

The future is something that I can't predict, but as of now, it's looking a whole lot brighter.

-=-

**--==--**

**I would just like to thank everyone who ever reviewed this story. Each one meant so much, and definitely inspired me to get my updates up faster.**

**I know this was a short chapter, but there wasn't much left to be said. I really hope you enjoyed it!**

**Also, if anyone has any ideas of something I could do for another fic, I'm all ears. I don't want to have nothing to write… It feels weird.**

**So I am the master of stalling, but I do believe it is time for me to close this trilogy.**

**Thank you so much for reading! I hope this helped your post-Aliyah depression - it certainly helped mine.**

**Now if only this would happen in the show...  
**

**-Fin-**


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